In a Cemetery Far Far Away... - August 11, 2018
Truth be told, my hubs Laurence really wanted to be an archeologist. He loved the idea of digging through dirt and finding neat things. But then he realized he’d have to be able to do math and science. End of that dream. So he studied English instead and became an English prof. And to be honest, I think he’d have preferred a comfy office chair and the air-conditioned halls of academia anyway. Digging is physical labour – often in scorching hot weather.
But never say never. And dreams not pursued in our youth can sometimes be chased in our dotage. At least some of them, sort of. Laur loves graveyards. Few things make him happier than finding out that a relative from a long time ago lives in a cemetery far far away, and then driving to that cemetery and finding said grave markers. He was horrified that we have never visited the gravesite (and taken pics of) my maternal grandparents. (Granny Marj, guess what we’ll be doing on our next trip to Belleville?)
Laur has ancestors on his Dad’s side buried at the Woodland cemetery in London, and we went to find and visit their markers last year. They are flat stones around a central standing stone, and some lawn had encroached on them. “Next year,” says Laur, “We’ll have to come back and dig them out.” (The stones, not the bodies, just in case you were wondering.)
So last Saturday we arrived at the cemetery and found the stones. OK, so never is anything that simple with us. As we were leaving, Laur went to get our trowels in storage. I neglected to tell him that we left them behind at 465 Loach’s Rd. in Sudbury. Oops. We could have gone to a hardware store and picked up two more, but that would be too simple. Nope, we dug through our junk and found an old cat box scraper and what looked to be to a big screwdriver that Laur insisted was a weeding tool. Laur added to that a whisk and a dustpan, and a garbage bag. (What?!)
It was one of the hottest days of the year, it was the noonday sun, and the graves are not in any shade. But needs must and the two of us started gravestone clearing. Many years of thatch build up is not that easy to uproot, and we had six stones to uncover. We dug and scraped and pulled away. By the end of it we were completely soaked in sweat and covered in dirt, and we had filled a green garbage bag full of dirt. Mission accomplished.
Our next stop was to visit Chris and Sally – Laur’s brother and partner. Said I to my hubs, “Only one screw-up today – not having trowels. Not bad. By the way, what street are we looking for.” Said hubs to me, “Hmm. I forgot to bring their address. I printed it off and left it on the printer. Watch for a street called Anna-something. It’s around there somewhere…” Yes, we know that cell-phones can store such information, but we still only use ours for a phone and a camera.
So we drove around a London burb – looking for a house that looked like a house Chris and Sal would live in. I’m sure we looked like we were stalking the neighbourhood, driving around in our black van with tinted windows. And then – eureka – Laur saw Sal in the front yard. (Probably alerted to the threat of a couple of dipsy-doodle marauders.)
How embarrassing! Not about our not knowing where we were going. This is normal for us. It’s that the first thing we said after “Hello” when we arrived at this beautiful and spotless home was, “Mind if we have a shower?” Sal chuckled, “For some reason our hot water shut off, so as long as you don’t mind…” Me, I welcomed coolness, plus a change of clothes. But even we didn’t have the nerve to ask to add to our bag of cemetery dirt to their garbage.
*****
It’s a funny thing. While Laur is keen to visit graveyards, he is not so excited to continue on with our funeral planning. We have our funeral director, Krystal, and she is awesome. But now we have to go pick out a plot at Victoria Lawn Cemetery and decide on a gravestone. Laur is resistant to having a gravestone that stands up – it’s the Scot in him. Flat in-the-ground markers are cheaper. Me, I’m very grateful my folks opted to have a standing up stone. Very easy to visit, no need to dig it out!
When we go to graveyards I look at the various inscriptions and muse about what I would like on mine. I really like hymnwriter Fanny Crosby’s quote – “She hath done what she could do.”
Laur, on the other hand, wants his to say, “Well, Janny, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”
But never say never. And dreams not pursued in our youth can sometimes be chased in our dotage. At least some of them, sort of. Laur loves graveyards. Few things make him happier than finding out that a relative from a long time ago lives in a cemetery far far away, and then driving to that cemetery and finding said grave markers. He was horrified that we have never visited the gravesite (and taken pics of) my maternal grandparents. (Granny Marj, guess what we’ll be doing on our next trip to Belleville?)
Laur has ancestors on his Dad’s side buried at the Woodland cemetery in London, and we went to find and visit their markers last year. They are flat stones around a central standing stone, and some lawn had encroached on them. “Next year,” says Laur, “We’ll have to come back and dig them out.” (The stones, not the bodies, just in case you were wondering.)
So last Saturday we arrived at the cemetery and found the stones. OK, so never is anything that simple with us. As we were leaving, Laur went to get our trowels in storage. I neglected to tell him that we left them behind at 465 Loach’s Rd. in Sudbury. Oops. We could have gone to a hardware store and picked up two more, but that would be too simple. Nope, we dug through our junk and found an old cat box scraper and what looked to be to a big screwdriver that Laur insisted was a weeding tool. Laur added to that a whisk and a dustpan, and a garbage bag. (What?!)
It was one of the hottest days of the year, it was the noonday sun, and the graves are not in any shade. But needs must and the two of us started gravestone clearing. Many years of thatch build up is not that easy to uproot, and we had six stones to uncover. We dug and scraped and pulled away. By the end of it we were completely soaked in sweat and covered in dirt, and we had filled a green garbage bag full of dirt. Mission accomplished.
Our next stop was to visit Chris and Sally – Laur’s brother and partner. Said I to my hubs, “Only one screw-up today – not having trowels. Not bad. By the way, what street are we looking for.” Said hubs to me, “Hmm. I forgot to bring their address. I printed it off and left it on the printer. Watch for a street called Anna-something. It’s around there somewhere…” Yes, we know that cell-phones can store such information, but we still only use ours for a phone and a camera.
So we drove around a London burb – looking for a house that looked like a house Chris and Sal would live in. I’m sure we looked like we were stalking the neighbourhood, driving around in our black van with tinted windows. And then – eureka – Laur saw Sal in the front yard. (Probably alerted to the threat of a couple of dipsy-doodle marauders.)
How embarrassing! Not about our not knowing where we were going. This is normal for us. It’s that the first thing we said after “Hello” when we arrived at this beautiful and spotless home was, “Mind if we have a shower?” Sal chuckled, “For some reason our hot water shut off, so as long as you don’t mind…” Me, I welcomed coolness, plus a change of clothes. But even we didn’t have the nerve to ask to add to our bag of cemetery dirt to their garbage.
*****
It’s a funny thing. While Laur is keen to visit graveyards, he is not so excited to continue on with our funeral planning. We have our funeral director, Krystal, and she is awesome. But now we have to go pick out a plot at Victoria Lawn Cemetery and decide on a gravestone. Laur is resistant to having a gravestone that stands up – it’s the Scot in him. Flat in-the-ground markers are cheaper. Me, I’m very grateful my folks opted to have a standing up stone. Very easy to visit, no need to dig it out!
When we go to graveyards I look at the various inscriptions and muse about what I would like on mine. I really like hymnwriter Fanny Crosby’s quote – “She hath done what she could do.”
Laur, on the other hand, wants his to say, “Well, Janny, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”